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Finally convinced that it would take the entire Army marching band to wake her, Noah made a couple of phone calls to get his mind off the bewitching woman. The last one was to Agent Wickowski, who expressed anger at not being told about the orderly. He wanted to come over and talk with Sydney right away. Noah convinced him to wait and suggested Wickowski talk with the nurse and the police officer first.
For a long time after that, Noah watched Sydney sleep, sorting through his options. He didn’t have many, he acknowledged glumly. He couldn’t simply walk away from her or the situation. He and Jerome had a blood tie he couldn’t deny. And now Noah was irrevocably bound to Sydney. The thought was nearly as disturbing as the woman herself.
She looked almost ethereal in sleep. How would she look when she grew round with the baby she carried?
Following that line of thought would lead to disaster, Noah told himself. Impatiently, he stood and put out the Do Not Disturb sign. Then he called the desk to ask them to hold all calls. Disgruntled, he lay down on the other bed and willed himself back to sleep. Questions loomed in his mind. He tried to picture Sydney and Jerome together and the image made him angry and restless.
When she sat up hours later, he was still awake, still trying to figure out how to initiate the discussion they needed to have.
She rolled over and looked at him, her eyes misty with sleep. “Hi.”
“Feel better?”
“I think so. Why are we whispering?”
“So we don’t strain your voice?”
“Oh.” She moistened her dry lips. “What have you been doing?”
“Watching you sleep.”
She blinked in surprise. “You do lead an eventful life, don’t you?” and she yawned, stretching away the kinks.
Noah’s attention riveted on the material of the T-shirt where it tightened over the gentle swell of her breasts. She caught him looking and color suffused her face.
Heat stole up his neck as well. When was the last time he’d been caught staring at a woman like some randy schoolboy?
Sydney rolled off the other side of the bed before he could apologize. “Bathroom,” she whispered without looking at him.
Well, at least she was steadier on her feet now. Noah sat up, frowning when the shower started.
She was too weak and dizzy. She could fall, hit her head. Anything might happen. Bathrooms were dangerous places. There was also the cast on her hand to consider. He didn’t know if she was supposed to get it wet or not but it would definitely hamper her in the bathtub.
Noah suspected it wouldn’t do him much good to point out either of those facts to her. Sydney Edwards—Inglewood, he tacked on sternly—definitely had a mind of her own.
Running a hand through his hair, he decided it would be much better for both of them if he didn’t dwell on the image of her standing on the other side of that flimsy door taking a shower.
“I needed a nap more than she did,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the telephone to call room service.
Sydney stepped from the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped loosely around her head. She’d donned his T-shirt again, but the shorts had obviously proved too much for her. She gripped the drooping shorts firmly around her waist. He wished she looked ridiculous—instead of sexy as hell.
“Quite a fashion statement,” he told her with what he hoped was an easy smile.
She looked down at the shirt where it clung a bit damply to the tops of her breasts and made a face. “I couldn’t retie the drawstring with only one hand.” Her embarrassment was tempered by annoyance.
Noah forced his eyes up and away, disturbed by his instant reaction. “I should have thought of that. I’ll help you.”
He could be detached. Of course he could.
“Come here.”
Sydney hesitated.
Remembering her earlier comment about the way he gave orders he added, “Please.”
Her expression lightened in a sudden burst of humor. “I’ll bet that didn’t hurt a bit.”
“What didn’t?”
“Saying please.”
“Anybody ever tell you that you have a sassy mouth?”
She grinned. “No one dares. Have you been in the military a long time?”
She was stalling. He didn’t mind the delaying tactics a bit. Touching her so intimately was going to be uncomfortable for both of them, especially since he knew she wasn’t wearing a thing under those bits of cloth.
“I got a military scholarship in high school.”
“ROTC?”
He nodded and perched on the edge of the bed so he could reach for the string.
“You know, we could call the front desk,” she said suddenly, backing up. “They might have a gift shop. Maybe I could have them send up a dress or something.”
He could just envision trying to help her into a dress. “I don’t think so, but picking up your clothing will be our first priority.” His sanity might depend on it. “Come here.”
With an air of resignation, she approached. “I feel like a little kid,” she said with endearing nervousness.
“Trust me, you don’t look anything at all like a kid.” And that was a pity. He wouldn’t have thought twice about helping a kid.
He’d never felt such intense physical awareness of a woman before. He had to keep telling himself she was his brother’s wife. Surely he could do this without embarrassing both of them.
But sitting on the bed had been a mistake. It put him just above eye level of the rounded curves his T-shirt strove to conceal. Her nipples contracted into tiny hard points. Noah tried not to stare and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law, not some woman he was trying to take to bed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I feel foolish.”
He knew the feeling.
“Is this the spot where I’m supposed to close my eyes and think of God and country?”
She surprised a chuckle out of him. He liked the way she turned to humor in difficult situations. “I thought it was queen and country.”
“Only if you’re British.”
“Ah. Well, c’mere darlin’,” he said with a drawl.
Her expression flashed with mild alarm that immediately turned to an answering grin. “Go for it, Tex.”
She released her one-hand death grip on the scrunched-up shirt and lost her hold on the jogging shorts underneath. They slid dangerously down her slim hips.
“Oops!”
Noah stopped their descent at her hips, which placed his face only inches from her navel beneath the thin bit of cotton. He inhaled the pleasant scent of the soap she’d used all over her body.
This had been a very bad idea.
“Here,” he said a bit gruffly. “You hold the shorts. I’ll get the drawstring.”
Their hands connected. Noah drew in a sharp breath and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law. Calling on every bit of discipline he’d ever known, he tugged up the hem of the T-shirt and reached for her waistband.
“I think I’d better tell you that I’m ticklish.”
Noah stopped, his fingers barely touching her smooth marble skin. “Ticklish?”
“Very ticklish. And I always get even.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not ticklish.”
“There are better ways of getting even.”
“I think I like the sound of that.” He slid a finger beneath the edge of the waistband searching for the drawstring. He tried not to acknowledge the silky feel of her skin as he brushed against the indentation that was her belly button. Her tummy contracted in instant reaction to his touch. His groin tightened in answer.
“Noah…”
“Don’t move. Don’t even breathe,” he warned.
He tugged the drawstring loose, tied it and sat back, breathing as though he’d just run a marathon.
Sydney jumped back like a scalded cat. The towel on her head tilted to one side and she pulled it free.
“Well. Now. That wasn’t so bad.”
“Speak for yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He stood and walked to his duffel bag so she wouldn’t notice the effect that little encounter had had on him. He needn’t have worried. Sydney was looking everywhere but at him. He pulled items randomly from his kit.
“I need to borrow your comb, if you don’t mind.”
“Use anything you need.”
Just don’t tell me about it, he almost added. The intimacy of this situation was taking a high toll on his good intentions. “I’m going to grab a quick shower myself. If room service comes before I’m done, check the peephole before you open the door. If you aren’t certain, wait for me. Okay?”
Her eyebrows raised mockingly. “Were you a drill instructor by any chance?”
He managed a lopsided smile, relieved she’d found a way to cut the tension between them. “Sorry again. I’m used to giving orders.”
“I can tell.”
“I just don’t want you to take any chances.”
“Yes, sir, Major, sir. Go take your shower.”
Sydney watched him go with a mixture of relief and regret. Her reaction to that little scene had been juvenile, to say the least. She tried to tell herself that there had been nothing sensual in Noah’s touch except in her own warped mind, but the truth was, for a minute or two there, they’d been a man and a woman who were attracted to each other. She didn’t want to know what he must be thinking of her.
Noah was much nicer than she’d expected from the things Jerome had told her. Oh, Noah could be every bit as bossy as his much younger brother, but he took her refusal to obey in stride.
Noah wasn’t Jerome. He’d gone out of his way to put her at ease despite his dominating tendencies. And if she could still feel the touch of his fingers against her bare skin, well, she’d just have to find ways to become more independent while her hand was in a cast—especially when it came to the awkward process of getting dressed.
Most of her belongings were at Laura’s apartment and that was going to require an explanation. Noah was bound to think it odd that she and Jerome had separate bedrooms. She should just tell him the truth and be done with it, but she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to see disdain in Noah’s expression. Or pity. Jerome had been his brother. What would Noah think when he discovered their marriage had been a total sham from the start?
Her gaze fell on the deep blue African violet. She thought of the plant stand in her bedroom where a dozen more violets sat beneath the window. She’d planned to move them all to Laura’s place this week.
She ran her finger gently over a soft round leaf. Noah couldn’t possibly know how much she loved the delicate plants. Unless he’d already been inside the apartment. Or Jerome had told him. The brothers had been doing a lot of talking in recent months. Jerome was excited by that fact.
In fact, Noah had called during her final battle with Jerome. While the two were on the phone, she’d packed her bags and left the apartment. The decision hadn’t been easy. She wasn’t a quitter by nature, but she also wasn’t going to become a victim in a relationship that was becoming more and more turbulent.
She and Jerome had married because they seemed to like each other and wanted to raise a family. It had been that simple and that complicated. She’d accepted that they would never have a normal physical relationship. She’d thought having a child was all that mattered. She thought of her reaction to Noah and shook her head. It was hard to believe her sheer stupidity.
Sydney stared at the rings on her finger. How had it come to this? She hated knowing Jerome had died while bitter words lay between them. And her guilt was compounded by her bizarre attraction to Noah.
Her gaze slid to the bathroom door. Noah had left it slightly ajar, probably so he’d hear her if she called out. She was touched by his unexpected kindness, yet disturbed by the way her body responded to him. She wasn’t sure how to act around this stranger who was suddenly her self-proclaimed protector.
The scent she’d come to associate with Noah wafted out on wisps of steam. It amazed her to realize that, despite her mix of feelings, she felt safe with Noah.
When he finally stepped into the room, her gaze was instantly drawn to his broad chest, still damp from his shower. She drew in a breath as he pulled on a crisp white shirt, completely at ease with himself, and thankfully unaware of the jittery effect the sight of his bare chest had on her pulses.
Sydney jumped as someone rapped sharply on the door.
“It’s okay,” Noah said soothingly. “That will be the food. Stay there. I’ll get it.”
He returned with a wheeled cart and she sniffed appreciatively as he set out the meal. She would have preferred to do her own ordering, but she was too hungry to argue.
She did, however, eye the pot of tea in surprise.
“Not coffee?”
“My mother believed tea was a cure-all,” he explained. “When I was a kid, tea appeared every time I had a sniffle. I made out okay so I figured it couldn’t hurt in case your throat was still sore.”
She pulled the tea bag from the water. “I thought chicken soup was supposed to be the cure-all.”
When he turned that full smile on her, she forgot all the reasons she should be wary of Noah. The planes of his face softened into a devastatingly potent charm that was far more captivating than blatant good looks.
“I’ve heard that myth, too,” he agreed.
